Put Up Your Dukes
by scarlet79
Summary: A sort-of peek into what might have been Duke's past, as we really don't know what it was like from the show. It's obvious that he has no high opinion of his dad, and within is a glimpse at why that might be...


Put Up Your Dukes

by scarlet79

* * *

To say that Duke Crocker hated his father was putting it mildly. For as long as he could remember, the boy had been the target for Simon Crocker's rage, and what was worse, he didn't even have to be drunk to lose his temper. Any small thing – a glass left out on the counter, the volume too high on the TV, not enough potatoes on his dinner plate – could have him screaming, his face turning red and his eyes bulging out of his head. Most of the time when Duke sensed the onset of one of these episodes, he would conveniently disappear from the house, usually turning up on the beach throwing rocks and shells into the waves, his dark eyes staring far into the distance as if he were trying to see into the future. He would stay there long past sunset, sitting on sand that was still warm, his hands letting the coarse grains sift through his fingers.

The last night this had happened, Duke was thirteen. He'd just wanted to play baseball with his friends from school. True, they weren't the best examples of Haven's citizens, but they were his friends. They didn't push him around or call him an idiot. They truly seemed to like him, and that went a lot further in his eyes than whether they cut class now and then. Of course, Dad didn't like the idea of a Crocker hanging out with that kind, and refused to allow Duke to go. Sick of being forced to sit inside, especially on such a sunny, warm day, Duke did something he knew he shouldn't.

He asked, "Why?"

His father's head snapped up from the newspaper he'd been reading. Eyes even darker than Duke's turned stormy. "What did you say?"

Duke lifted his chin and stared back at Simon. "I want to go outside and play."

"And I said no."

"You can't hide me away forever."

The newspaper was tossed away, loose sheets fluttering around the room as his father leaped to his feet. "I sure as hell can. I am your father; I can do whatever I want with you!"

"You don't own me!" Duke shouted back. "I'm your son, not your property!"

His father's hand connected with his cheek in a hard slap, the crack echoing through the house. "Don't you ever talk back to me, boy!"

Hot tears sprang to Duke's eyes, but his jaw clenched and he said, "And don't you ever touch me again."

To his surprise and horror, Simon Crocker laughed. "Or what? What's a wimp like you gonna do about it?"

"I'll tell the Chief."

Simon laughed again. "You really think he'll believe you? After all the trouble you've been in?" At the guilty look on his son's face, he went on. "Oh, you never knew I found out about your little 'adventures' during school, did you? I got a call yesterday, in fact, about you getting in a fight with the Chief's own son."

"He started it," Duke muttered.

"I'd like to see you convince Garland Wuornos of that." He took a step toward Duke, who backed away. "Let's face facts, Duke. You're mine."

His father reached for him, but Duke put both hands out and shoved him away with all his strength, shouting "No!" at the same time. The unexpected burst of strength in Duke's shove knocked Simon off balance, and he fell backward over his recliner. Duke didn't wait around to see what would happen next. He turned around, yanked the door open, and took off. And now, hours later, he sat on the beach, where Chief Wuornos eventually found him.

Crouching down beside Duke, the Chief said, "Nathan told me I'd find you down here."

Duke shrugged, but said nothing.

"It's gettin' cold out here. Storm's comin' in."

The boy shrugged again. This time, however, he turned to look at the Chief. "Are you gonna take me back home?"

"There a reason I shouldn't?"

A dozen emotions flashed through Duke's dark eyes, but after a moment he simply replied, "I guess not."

Garland watched the boy beside him for a while, seeing the edges of a bruise on his cheek despite the darkness of the moonless night. Finally, he said, "Well, how 'bout if we go get in the truck and we'll figure it out from there?"

Duke had to admit that the cool wind was beginning to chill him through, so he hesitantly nodded and got to his feet. He brushed himself off as the Chief stood and pulled his keys out, and when they'd reached the blue Ford truck, Duke looked up at the man.

"I'm sorry about the fight with Nathan."

For the second time that day, Duke was surprised at the reaction he got. The Chief smiled down at him and clapped him lightly on the shoulder. "That's all right, Duke. Nathan told me he started it, anyway."

"He did?"

"Yep. Now, get in before you freeze solid."

They piled into the truck and Garland started the engine, and they pulled onto the state road that ribboned alongside the seashore.

"So," Garland said after a while, "what were you doin' down there so late?"

"I always go to the beach to think."

"To escape, you mean."

Duke stared at him. "What?"

"I may be a small town cop, Duke, but that doesn't mean I'm slow." He gestured toward Duke's cheek, and the boy used the truck window to see his reflection. The place his father had hit was a shade of purple Duke had never seen before. Reflexively, his fingers reached up to touch his face as Garland went on. "I've always known Simon Crocker to be a mean s.o.b. Never figured on that, though."

"Yeah, well..." Duke never finished the thought. He realized he'd almost defended his father's behavior, about to blame it on his being tired from work, or on the fact that he'd talked back. Instead, he shook his head and stared silently out the window.

The Ford soon pulled up to the Haven Police Station, and Garland led Duke inside, his arm draped protectively around the boy's shoulders. He sat him down in his office and gave him a blanket, then sent an officer after a cup of hot cocoa.

Once Duke was settled and the door shut, Garland pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen. "Okay," he said to Duke, who was nursing his mug of cocoa, "why don't you tell me how you got that bruise, there?"

Before Duke could even open his mouth, there was commotion outside the office, and a moment later Simon Crocker burst into the room. His cocoa forgotten, Duke scrambled to the corner furthest from the man, and Garland was on his feet in an instant. "Simon..." the Chief began, intending on calming the man down.

"I've been looking for you all night, Duke," Simon said, completely ignoring Garland for the moment. A sneer twisted his lips. "Should've known you'd be at the station." Only now did he turn to the other man as he asked, "What'd he do this time?"

"Nothing," the Chief replied, crossing his arms and blocking the man from reaching his son. "I found 'im down at the beach and brought him here."  
Duke's father shot him a puzzled look. "Why here? Why didn't you take him home?"

"Honestly, I didn't think that was the best idea."

"Why not?"

Garland felt the roots of his hair get hot, but he struggled to keep himself level. "Because I wanted to speak with him, first. Do you know where he got the bruise on his cheek, Simon?"

At the shake of his father's head, the teenager rushed forward, only to be caught by Garland. "You're lying!" Duke shouted, fighting furiously against the Chief's grip. Brought in by the shouts, an officer rushed into the room and allowed Duke to be handed off to him. The officer was apparently acquainted with children, as he deftly avoided Duke's flailing limbs.

His arms might have been restrained, but his mouth sure wasn't. His lips turned down in a deep frown, and then he yelled, "You hit me!"

"I would very much like to take my son home now," Simon said, just as if his son had never said a word.

"I'm sorry, but we aren't finished here."

Crocker's eyes got that hard look, and he smiled. "Yes, you are, Chief. It's two in the morning, for God's sake! He has school, and I have work."

Garland returned the cocky grin. People often mistook his soft answers for weakness, or a gentle nature. In truth, they were the quiet before the storm, and God help anyone caught in that torrent. Simon Crocker thought he could bully anyone he wanted, but in this situation he had made a big mistake. Nobody bullied a Wuornos, especially not Garland, Haven's Chief of Police.

"Well," the prematurely-gray chief said then, "you'd better get goin', then. Don't wanna get fired."

"What about my son?"

Duke suddenly stopped struggling against the officer's arms, very interested in what the chief's answer would be. A worry-line creased his young forehead as he waited, afraid that Garland would indeed send him home with Simon.

"I'm gonna hang onto him for a bit, I think."

An audible sigh escaped Duke then.

"But school...he's already cut classes..." Simon stuttered.

Garland nodded, more to hide the grin he felt slipping onto his face than in agreement. He could hear the panic just beginning to creep into the other man's voice, the realization that his secrets were all about to be found out.

"Oh, I'm aware of that," the Chief replied. "If we get everything squared away by the time school starts, I'll take him up there myself."

For a moment, it seemed as though Simon would argue further, but then he shut his mouth with a snap and strode out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Now sure his father was gone, Duke's limbs all relaxed at once and he would've sunk to the floor had the officer not been there holding him. As it was, the man led Duke over to the chair in front of Garland's desk and sat him down.

"You got him?" The officer asked, and the Chief nodded.

"Go on home, Charlie. Tell Tabitha hello for me."

Charlie smiled. "You got it, Chief."

The man left the room, and as soon as the latch on the door clicked shut, Duke pulled his legs up off the floor and curled up into a ball. Garland watched, a lump in his throat. Duke and Nathan were the same age, born only a few months apart. Both came from broken families, as Nathan wasn't really Garland's true son – a fact the entire town knew but never let on about – but the child of a con man with an affliction that left him with no sense of touch whatsoever. As a result, Max Hansen often got into fights most normal people had no hope of winning and came out on top. Knowing that kind of life was no good for a young boy to grow up under, Garland had effectively persuaded Hansen to give Nathan to Garland and his wife to raise. So far, Nathan had no memory of his birth father and believed that he was indeed a Wuornos. Someday, Garland knew that he'd have to tell the boy the truth, but he also knew that learning that his childhood had been a lie would upset Nathan greatly.

"Duke," Garland finally said, and the boy peeked over his arm at the man.

"Yeah?"

"This happen a lot?"

Duke nodded.

"Nathan know about it?"

"Maybe." Then, after a short pause, he cast his gaze downward and amended, "Sometimes."

"That's what the fight was about, wasn't it?"

It was another moment before Duke replied, "Yeah. He wanted to tell you, but I made him promise not to. Then, yesterday, he said he had to tell orelse he'd go nuts. I got scared, so I pushed him. He pushed back, and we started fighting."

"What were you afraid of?"

"That my dad would find out I told someone."

Garland nodded sympathetically. "And what would've happened then?"

"I dunno. Probably get hit again." Some thought seemed to come to him then, and he sat up, his eyes frantically darting around. "Am I gonna have to go back home after this?"

"Let's not worry about that now."

Though Duke nodded, he still seemed agitated. Garland sighed and changed the subject slightly. "Sharon – your mom – was a good lady," he told Duke. "We all miss her 'round here. She had your dark skin and eyes."

"I don't remember,"Duke quietly replied.

"Everyone in town just adored her."

This brought a soft smile to the boy's lips. Closing his eyes, he yawned and wriggled deeper into the chair. "Tell me about her."

Chief Wuornos rested his elbows on the desk. "She was a brilliant dancer. Every party we had, she was there. She loved to wear her hair up on top of her head, with a white flower stuck in it. She was so beautiful, so alive.

"What's funny is, she never thought she was pretty. She'd say, 'Oh, I guess I'm not ugly,' but it was as if she just thought she was plain. And once she and Simon married, she seemed to pull away from the town, from the parties. She stopped dancing." Garland smiled. "But when you came along...Gosh, did she just light up. Everything you did was amazing to her, the tiniest thing was like the biggest milestone. Anyone with half a brain could see she was crazy about you."

He had paused only to take a breath, but a small sound from the chair reached his ears, and he felt his heart squeeze in his chest.  
Duke Crocker, at all of thirteen years old, was fast asleep, safely wrapped up in a blanket and snoring lightly. Garland got up from his seat, scooped the boy into his arms, and carried him over to the couch that sat along the far wall of the office. Tucking the blanket around Duke's legs, he pushed a stray lock of hair off the boy's forehead, turned off the light and left the room, quietly shutting the door behind him.

* * *

The End? I don't know. Maybe...


End file.
